


Community Service Hours

by brinnanza



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 12:11:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5247821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brinnanza/pseuds/brinnanza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How was he supposed to know the clearing he’d landed the jumper in wasn’t naturally occurring? It wasn’t as if there were <i>signs</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Community Service Hours

“I can’t believe I’m sitting in space jail with you of all people!”

The cell is much the same as countless others Sheppard and his team have been locked up in in the Pegasus galaxy: it’s a stone room, maybe 10’ by 7’ with a high barred window on one wall and a heavy wooden door opposite. There’s a single low bench, basic sanitary facilities in one corner, and no easy way to escape without the weapons that had, of course, been confiscated.

“Of all people?” Sheppard echoes, one eyebrow skeptically raised. “If anything, I’m the person you’re _most_ likely to be stuck in here with.”

McKay glares at him. “Well I wouldn’t be sitting in space jail at all if you’d learn how to _park_.”

Which is really not fair. Sheppard frowns, his bottom lip veering dangerously near a pout. How was he supposed to know the clearing he’d landed the jumper in wasn’t naturally occurring? It wasn’t as if there were _signs_. And anyway, he’d moved the jumper once it became clear that it was a no-fly zone. Of course, they’d been arrested anyway once the Taskao found out they couldn’t pay the fine, despite Sheppard’s protestations that no, they _weren’t_ Taskao and thus did not have any “Lema” and would they perhaps be interested in medical supplies instead?

He says as much to McKay, then adds, “And stop calling it ‘space jail’. We’re on a planet.”

McKay’s glare intensifies and he crosses his arms. “I’ll call it whatever I want to call it, especially since this is all your fault.”

“I just said it wasn’t my fault!” Sheppard protests, pushing himself up off of the wall he’d been slouching against. “You always think it’s my fault.”

“I do not!”

“Do too!”

“Do not! Just last week it was Ronon’s fault!”

“Hey!” Ronon objects from the back of the cell, where he’s sharpening one of the knives their captors had failed to find and thus confiscate. “That guy had it coming.”

“And as much as we appreciate you handling would-be muggers by punching them, the fact remains that they threw us in space jail while they sorted it out and it was indisputably your fault.”

“I dunno, they wouldn’t have arrested us if those guys hadn’t wanted to mug us. I think it’s probably their fault,” Sheppard puts in, mostly to annoy McKay.

He’s rewarded with a defiant chin lift and another glare. “Regardless,” McKay says slowly, as if he’s talking to children or particularly dense Air Force Colonels, “last time it clearly wasn’t Sheppard’s fault, so I obviously don’t _always_ think it’s your fault.” He smirks triumphantly. “Just most of the time.” Sheppard opens his mouth to protest, but McKay continues, “And that’s objective fact. I ran the numbers.”

Sheppard highly doubts the numbers are objective. It seems likely that McKay assigned missions with multiple or unclear at-fault parties (like the whole team or their very presence) to Sheppard, especially since McKay’s single-minded devotion to finding worthwhile tech and general lack of manners got them in trouble at least as often as Sheppard’s flying. And anyway, it had been McKay that had pointed out the clearing to begin with for its proximity to the town, so really, the whole thing could be considered McKay’s fault in the first place. He almost reminds Rodney of this, but once McKay has decided something isn’t his fault, it’s almost impossible to change his mind.

Ronon tests the blade of the knife he’s sharpening on the pad of his thumb, then gives it a flip and tucks it back into his dreads. 

“Why don’t you use one of those to get us out of here?” McKay says.

Ronon leans forward to peer around McKay at the door lock, a considering look on his face. Sheppard scowls at him and steps into his field of vision. He has no doubt that Ronon _could_ break them out of the cell, but it won’t be necessary. Hopefully.

“Relax, McKay,” he says, leaning back against the wall when Ronon’s attention returns to his knives. “We won’t be here much longer.”

“How do you know?” Now Rodney is studying the door lock thoughtfully. Sheppard is equally sure Rodney could break them out too, given enough time and access to one of Ronon’s knives.

“Because,” Sheppard says, adopting the slow, patient tone McKay had been using a moment ago, “Teyla has lots of experience talking us out of trouble, so as soon as she convinces the Taskao that what happened was an honest mistake, we’ll be free to go. So just sit tight.”

McKay looks unconvinced, but he does pull back from the door, which is good enough for Sheppard. Sure enough, not ten minutes later, the cell door creaks open to reveal two tall, broad-shouldered Taskao and a weary-looking Teyla.

“The Taskao have agreed to release you,” she tells them, one slightly raised eyebrow indicating she’ll have more words for them later. “In lieu of the fine, they will accept a day’s labor as compensation for the transgression.”

McKay is looking like he might protest, but Sheppard doesn’t want to spend any more time in space jail (great, now McKay’s got him saying it) than he has to, so he shoots Rodney a look and he obligingly shuts his mouth.

“That’s very understanding of them,” Sheppard says graciously, even though it isn’t really. He’s spent a lot of time in a lot of jails on a lot of worlds in this galaxy for various reasons (not usually his fault, despite Rodney’s claims), but this is the first time it’s been due to a _parking ticket_. “What exactly did they have in mind?”

Teyla gestures to the Taskao next to her, and he hands her a long, thin metal rod with a sharp spike on the end and a large, black bag.

“You have _got_ to be kidding,” McKay says before Teyla can explain. “ _Litter patrol_?”

 

Three hours into their sentence, McKay hasn’t let up his litany of complaints for longer than a breath. Teyla’s face is very tight around her eyes, and she keeps throwing him darting glances like she’s thinking of impaling him on her garbage pike. If Ronon were in earshot, Sheppard is certain he’d have already done it, but he’d only lasted about twenty minutes before moving to the far end of the field. Sheppard has already cycled through irritation, commands, and threats and has circled back around to being faintly impressed with McKay’s creativity and lung capacity.

“I mean, really,” McKay is saying as he stabs his pike into what looks like a candy wrapper, “they manage to elude the wraith long enough to develop _manufacturing_ and _capitalism_ and instead of housing refugees or fighting the wraith directly, they hand out _parking tickets_.” He jabs a crumpled up ball of paper and wrinkles his nose in disgust, a gesture that’s been making consistent appearances over the last three hours. “You must feel right at home here, Colonel. This place is so American they’re practically blaring your country’s absurd national anthem over loud speaker.”

“Hey!” says Sheppard, unable to stop himself.

Rodney rounds on him, brandishing his pike menacingly. “Don’t ‘hey’ me, Colonel Parking Violation. This is still your fault, you know.”

Sheppard wonders if he can claim plausible deniability if he turns his back so Teyla can whack Rodney. She’s developing a twitch in one eye and stabbing the ground with more force than is strictly necessary, and truth be told, Sheppard is a little afraid of her himself.

Unfortunately, there are still two officials in prison uniforms observing them from about fifty feet away, and McKay is actually pretty useful to have around. Plus, as much as he hates to admit it right at the moment, he likes McKay. Most of the time. 

Sheppard starts to say it isn’t his fault for perhaps the sixth or seventh time, but he’s unlikely to change McKay’s mind, especially mid-rant, so he just says, “Fine. It’s my fault for parking in an unmarked clearing with no signs, I’m the reason we’re all stuck on garbage duty, and I’m very, very sorry. Do you think it’s possible that at some point, maybe, you might see fit to _let it go_?”

McKay just smirks infuriatingly.

Sheppard reconsiders his stance on murder.

Teyla stabs a plastic bottle.

Somewhere down the field, Ronon starts _whistling_.

If he can get his whole team back to Atlantis with everyone still in one piece and without creating a galactic diplomatic incident, Sheppard thinks a little desperately, it’ll be a _miracle_.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt from a list [here](http://brinnanza.tumblr.com/post/124025040206/ridiculous-sentence-prompts): "I can't believe I'm sitting in space jail with you of all people." It was originally supposed to be McShep but I couldn't get Sheppard and McKay to do anything shippy, so gen mission fic it is, complete with utter lack of ending. *jazz hands*


End file.
